


Residual Memory

by silly_bone



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dark Knight Questline (Final Fantasy XIV) Spoilers, Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mainly speculation and headcannon, Other, hurt/some comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silly_bone/pseuds/silly_bone
Summary: A familiar visitor comes calling.The darkside is residual of eons long since forgotten.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Residual Memory

“Fray.”

Spoken with such reverence upon their arrival to the hero’s room within The Pendants, a breath wasted on an unheeded prayer. The dead do not answer yet let him believe what he will in matters of the afterlife. However correction was in order to properly guide this visitation.

“That is no name of mine,” the darkside responded, dismissive.

A subtle dip in his brow exposed ample disappointment, although misplaced as it was. They had revealed the truth before in that frigid outpost. Pretend and deny as he pleased, their hero could not change the past. The fondness this hero among heroes developed for a ruse made manifest at a dead man’s expense was naive even now. Yet still there was charm buffering the frustration, an endearment to blunt the edges.

_Yes, a fool,_ the darkside conceded, _but mine._

“Do not bother yourself with rising,” the darkside remarked for the warrior’s benefit as he began the slow process of standing from his seat upon the bed’s edge. “You are yet weary from your trials.”

He could not deny that, easing back down with a facade of reluctance. The darkside watched as he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, resting his arms upon his knees. His eyes closed.

“And what arduous trials they were,” the darkside mused. When the warrior opened his eyes, he found them across the room, seemingly regarding the empty wicker basket upon the table. “Unnecessarily so. You’ve become accustomed to it, haven’t you?”

“Why have you shown yourself?” Weary, uninclined to entertain, the warrior asked plainly.

They turned and merely looked upon him, silent in consideration. Then approaching without sound, another phantom visitor to the Pendants room, the darkside came to stop just shy of reach. It was not necessary. Even had they come to invade the space between, they doubted he would reach out. Such intimacy was foreign now, a memento left over from the period where they entertained the ruse they pulled over him.

“I was not certain when or if I will get the chance again,” they admitted with a peculiar twinge in their voice, his voice. _Our voice._

A fondness it was, a longing that saturated the tone; how they desired these exchanges to last forever. It was not to be however, they knew well.

“You’ve come to say goodbye?” He asked, a puzzled look upon a face etched with fatigue. They could not fault him for the confusion. The relationship they kept was unaddressed and unexplained. All for the best, perhaps.

“Yes,” they answered then paused before correction, “No.”

The lack of change in their warrior’s face confirmed the absence of clarity in the answer provided. Never would they say farewell, never formally, never aloud.

“I’ve come to… give my gratitude.”

_Yes, I would give thanks while the opportunity allows._

None of what they provided seemed to ease the creases in their fond warrior’s expression. It was endearing, how little they understood.

“An explanation is in order, if I may.”

The darkside removed their helm, revealing that perfect mimicry. _Imitation is the highest form of flattery, was it not?_ And they smiled faintly as he held their gaze, his eyes widening before looking away.

“That’s what I look like? I look… terrible,” he remarked softly, ending with a quiet breath that couldn’t quite take the shape of a laugh.

“Nonsense. You are beautiful,” they corrected without hesitation for it was the truth. Another huff, another not-quite laugh.

_If only you saw what I see._

Held in two hands for but a moment, the helm dissipated, melding seamlessly with their figure. Hands freed, they came to fold them across their chest. In this nonchalant pose, they decided their next words as the hero played reluctance at looking at them properly.

“My thanks for granting Emet-Selch his due rest.”

Simply put, without meandering, a detached comment that carried weight. Unceremoniously dropped, the burden of it seized the warrior’s attention, a subject still raw and not yet scabbed. His head snapped up and the focus in weary eyes was impressive.

“You were there?”

“I am never far.”

A slump then, the warrior deflating, crumbling inward. He was tired, so very tired. What they wouldn’t have done to ease his burden, alas it was now in the past, beyond their reach.

Gently, his shade spoke again, “No one desires an ending on terms not their own. This is what began the path so very long ago. Dare I say he finally found terms worth accepting within you…”

“You’re speaking like you knew him,” he mumbled, regarding the floor below with a miserable fascination.

“Once upon a time, I did,” they mused in a nostalgic sway. Another reveal which bid for the warrior’s attention, receiving without fail. Less impassioned, more tentative, his gaze lifted to meet their eyes, his eyes. _Our eyes._

The silence on the hero’s half prompted a continuation and the shade delivered, thoughtful and solemn.

“He was… they were all remarkable. Each and every one of them had brilliance.”

“Tell me,” the hero said, barely above a whisper. Neither plea nor demand, merely an invitation extended and one the shade could not possibly refuse.

_How long has it been?_

To reminisce for enthralled company, it brought a sensation long forgotten to the surface. The hero listened intently, hanging onto every word as the shade strolled through memory after memory. Halcyon days wherein even moments of conflict were resolved with ease. The shade seemed to have a tale for everyone, from the esteemed upon the convocation to the child in their parent’s arms. Inevitable as ending eventually were, even the shade fell quiet to the company of twilight’s soft glow.

“They deserved so much,” the shade sighed, barely disturbing the quiet, “So much more than I could provide…”

“Who are you?”

That the figment should recoil, seemingly caught off-guard, appeared to be equally off-putting for the hero.

“Naught but a fool,” the shade replied, a rueful smile pulling at familiar lips. “In their wisdom, they condemned the fool that dealt in absolutes and absolutes alone. ‘All or nothing’, I proposed before them and they came to stray. Any means would be justified by their envisioned end but could it be guaranteed?”

It was not a question that the warrior could possibly hope to answer and this the visitor knew. Rhetorical as it may have been, the desire for a concrete answer seemed to haunt the other.

“All or nothing, I said,” the shade repeated, murmuring distantly.

“All or nothing?” The hero echoed.

“And so,” they spoke, head turning to the side to regard the encroaching darkness beyond the balcony, “it was to be nothing.”

They knew well without needing to see that the hero did not take fondly to such a reveal. A frown or perhaps that stern look of disapproval, whatever may have awaited, the shade refused to meet.

“I gave all that I was and would be for nothing. Nothing for them, nothing for us, and nothing for me. It… did not go as I intended,” they concluded with a short gesture, barely a wave, towards the weary warrior. To stray was never the shade’s nature, destined to eventually drift back. Previous reluctance dismissed to look on him once more and meet the strange expression, witnessing the sympathy that crinkled the edges around his eyes.

“Oh, do not look at me so,” the old memory chided, gentle and quiet, painfully familiar yet unintentional. A pained smile flicked across his face and they merely closed their eyes.

“It grows late,” the shade remarked, eyes shut. The visit would end soon, yet they were grateful it had lasted as long as it had.

“You never answered my question.”

“But I did.”

“No, you spoke around it. He did the same with my questions.”

Deciding against opening their eyes, as it would only prove to make the farewell more difficult, the shade sighed as they were cornered.

“Who am I? A distant memory of what was. I am not unlike them, I suppose. My colleagues…. my wayward friends are little more than tragic memories waiting to be forgotten. And I’m confident that day will come where they may finally rest.”

A tether fading in slow decay, being drawn back and away. Diminishing and growing transparent, the shade resisted, lingering. So many things left to say.

“He bid you remember them, did he not? I beg the opposite. There is no substance for you in remembering the ghosts of a broken star. If you would remember, remember those that matter to you instead. Your life is not the memories of the deceased.”

“What about you?”

“I will serve my penance.”

A sharp tug signaled the end of the rope, pulling at their entirety. With eyes still shut, they extended their hand, “It’s time to go. Permit me this one selfish indulgence.”

They opened their eyes to see the warrior extend his own hand forward. It would not do, they decided and reached further, filling the space between. Their warrior did not retreat nor flinch when their fingers pressed flat yet fleeting against his breast, blanketing his heart. Savoring a heartbeat, the pull could not be refused.

“I beg of you, do not waste your life in pursuit of something that cannot be changed,”

“Wait,” he breathed. “Your real name, what is it?”

“My true name? _Our name?_ Fret not, it cannot compare to your name.”

Dissipating much in the same way they had appeared, wisps of darkness fading in a beautifully forlorn departure. A fond smile upon his own face that he knew he could not mirror and lips moving quickly in an unvoiced promise lingered in his mind. He collapsed back on the bed, putting in the minimal effort to find comfort before succumbing to the fatigue. Their promise repeating in his own tone.

_I love you more than you’ll ever know. Be well._

**Author's Note:**

> i live for esteem and will die cherishing the concept that esteem is a shade of the 14th


End file.
